Happiness
by tiedyedseashells
Summary: Because everyone deserves a happy ending. A collection of oneshots featuring various couples.
1. Pineapple Lips

Pineapple Lips  
Claire x Kai

* * *

Did you know that lips taste like fruits? Most of the girls I've kissed have always tasted like strawberry, some coconut, maybe one or two who tasted like mango. Always pleasant and sweet, but never exciting. Never something to hold on to.

* * *

The first time we kissed, I initiated it. It was the end of my second summer in Mineral Town since you'd arrived on the farm. We were standing at the dock and you were hopelessly wiping tears away from your eyes with the back of your small, calloused hand. You had tried so hard to hold them back; I could actually feel the sadness emanating from your pores.

"Hey, come on, Claire. I'll be back next summer. It'll come round right before you know it," I'd said in an effort to comfort you. I had to hold back my faint desire to say anything more.

"I know."

"So why're you crying then, huh?"

"Can't I be sad that one of my closest friends is deserting me for a year?" You smiled feebly through your tears, and your futile resilience in such a fragile state only endeared me to you more.

"Hey, hey. I'm not deserting you for a year. I'm deserting you for _three seasons_," I tried to joke, a mysterious force tugging on my heartstrings as I saw even more tears trickle down your cheeks.

You nodded dejectedly, not enough fight in you to come up with a comeback.

I tucked a tanned hand into my pocket, fingers rummaging to find what I then proceeded to slip into your own pocket.

"What's that?" You managed to mumble out as you violently wiped your face on your sleeve, in a hopeless last-ditch effort to regain your composure.

"Just a seashell I bought from the last town I visited," I shrugged, like it was nothing. "It's supposed to bring good luck or some crap. Don't break it with your man hands. Knowing you, I give it three or four days, tops."

"Shut up, Kai," you murmured, the faintest traces of a smile playing on the sides of your mouth.

"Last call for all passengers boarding the ferry!"

"That's me."

"Okay." You managed a small smile, but fresh tears were already forming at the edges of your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.

"Come on, quit crying. It's not a good look for you."

You nodded furiously, in a way that a child would if she too were scolded to stop crying but couldn't control her tears.

"Sir, you getting on the ferry?" The captain came up to me, obviously annoyed that we'd been on the dock since the first call and I still hadn't moved since then.

"Yeah, just give me a minute."

He sighed tiredly, ambling slowly back to the ferry. I watched to see that his back was turned.

I didn't know what it was that came over me. We were close friends, but never anything more up until that point. I took in the image of you, looking so childishly, girlishly vulnerable, in a state I'd never seen you in before. Your crying wasn't pretty at all, the way some girls manage to look prettier while crying. Your crying was the ugly, snotty kind that made your red nose leak, and your eyes were starting to swell from the amount of tears they were churning out. It was so ugly, so flawed, so faulted, but so real.

Now or never.

"See ya," I rushed out, before promptly proceeding to grab your waist in my arms, lifting you up and throwing my lips clumsily onto yours. You were shocked beyond belief, but you made no effort to push me away. Maybe you had no fight left in you after all the crying, or maybe you wanted to kiss me as well. Either way, it only lasted a few seconds, but the feeling of your blonde bangs brushing my forehead, your small hands grabbing onto my shoulders to prevent you from falling, your lips, warm from crying, pressing firmly against mine, remained imprinted on my body until the next summer.

I placed you back squarely on the ground, and pulling away from you felt like breaking two attracted magnets apart. I had to put all my willpower into pulling away from the force trying to draw me back to you. You stood bewildered, eyes wide in shock, red from crying. Your small, calloused hand rested on where my lips had just been.

"See ya," I repeated, flashing you a quick smile before turning and making my way to the ferry.

The captain was waiting by the edge of the ferry. "About time," he grumbled, but then proceeded to change his tone to one of understanding. "Girlfriend?" He asked, motioning towards your dazed figure on the dock.

"Just a friend," I replied laughingly.

"Sure didn't look like just a friend to me."

* * *

The second time we kissed, you initiated it.

It was the following summer, and my ferry had just reached the dock. The captain gave me a smile, obviously recalling the last time we'd been on this same dock. "There's your friend," he signaled, bringing my gaze over to your figure positioned on the same spot we'd stood last summer. Your skin had turned paler, and your hair had grown a little longer, but you still looked the same. Still the you that I'd kissed last summer.

In the past three seasons, I hadn't kissed any other girls.

The captain gave me a knowing nod before I disembarked the ship, trying to control myself from dropping my bags and running over to you.

_'Screw it,'_ I thought, before promptly proceeding to do just that and tackling you into a hug, lifting your feet off the ground. You wrapped your arms around my neck, smiling so brightly that it seemed impossible that this same face had been the tearful one I'd witnessed last summer.

Your lips found mine, almost like it was instinctive. It was in that kiss that I finally realized what your lips tasted like; a question I'd been trying to answer for the past three seasons.

Pineapple.

And it was in that kiss that all the other kisses I'd ever had, all the strawberries, coconuts, mangoes, they all fused together to form a forgettable cocktail miasma. It was in that kiss that I realized I wanted to taste pineapple – no, needed – to taste pineapple for the rest of my life.

We broke apart, and I put you back down, and you asked, "is it alright that I kissed you?"

"Yeah," I said, but what I actually meant was yes, it was very alright that you kissed me, because in that second kiss, I realized that your pineapple lips were the only ones I could ever want for the rest of forever.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harvest Moon or 'About Kissing'.**

**Author's Note: This is my try at writing some stories with happy endings (because if you've read my other stories, you'll realise most of them don't have happy endings). This will be a collection of oneshots, mostly featuring the female MCs, but if you'd like to request something I'd be happy to do it! As always, please review or follow if you want! I'd appreciate it!  
**


	2. Stay

Stay  
Jill x Rock

* * *

"For the love of God, Rock! He could have died, you know."

"Oh, come on. He's just a dog, he can go a day or two without any food."

"That's not the point, damn it!"

"Then what exactly is the point?" Rock's eyebrow raised tiredly, as if he'd seen this all before.

"I asked you to feed my dog for the two measly days that I was out of town, and you couldn't even do that! Jesus, you're so irresponsible!" I glared sternly at the blonde that sat before me. His eyes jadedly followed my figure, which was furiously pacing across his room.

"Aw, come on, babe. He didn't die, right? So it's fine," he had the nerve to argue.

His comment sent my blood into boiling state. "I don't even know why I'm with you," I muttered manically. "You're irresponsible, careless, self-centered and undoubtedly the laziest person I've ever met!" I raked my hands through my hair in utter frustration.

The scene unfolding was not unlike many previous ones we had created before. It was always the same.

* * *

Our relationship was tumultuous at best – we were constantly, constantly fighting. For every day we spent together, there would be at least two or three fights in between. Numerous people questioned why we were even together. It wasn't beneath us to get into a fight in public, sometimes outside the Inner Inn or in the Blue Bar. Onlookers would always shake their heads and empty out the place. Even the ever-patient Griffin despised us for how we had robbed him of a bar full of business more than one too many times.

* * *

Rock gave up on pretending to listen to my berating, and lay back on his bed, sighing audibly.

"What, you're not even going to listen to me anymore?" I cried, angered beyond belief.

"I'm listening, babe…" He grumbled, obviously irritated.

"You're not! You're lying down, for God's sake!"

He sat back up exasperatedly, eyes closed in frustration. "Jesus, I said I was sorry, alright, Jill? What more do you want?"

"I want you to stop being so damn irresponsible! I want you to be a man for once, rather than some little boy who still lives under his parents' roof and doesn't earn a scrap of money for himself!"

It was like a switch had been flicked in him. His eyes suddenly changed from listlessly bored to darkened anger.

I'd hit him where it hurt, and I knew it.

"That was a low blow."

"Yeah, well, it's the truth, isn't it?"

"At least I have a family," Rock snarled evilly. He'd picked my weakest spot and had decided to drill his nails into it.

That familiar heart drop I always got whenever my family was mentioned hit me. I glowered at Rock; my intense stare letting him know that he was the one who had just reached a new low.

"Fuck you," I spat out disgustedly, turning my heels to head towards the door. My blood was steaming at Rock's last counter.

"I'm leaving," I threatened, meaning it. "For good." With that, I slammed his door shut and fled from the Inner Inn.

* * *

When you go skydiving, you free fall from the sky. It's exhilarating and mind-blowing and utterly and completely terrifying, because you have no doubt in your mind that you're going to die. On your fatal descent through the air, you have no choice but to accept the fact: you are going to die.

When you find yourself on the ground, on your feet, well and alive, you're relieved, so, so relieved, but also slightly disappointed, because you were so sure this was it. You were so sure this would be the end, and when it's not, you can't help but feel disappointed.

* * *

"Wait, Jill!" Rock was panting from having hastily followed me out onto the street. We stood outside the Inn. My heart stopped. I knew what was coming. It always came down to this.

"Please stay."

* * *

When he asks me to stay, my feet hit the ground, letting me know that I survived the free fall. I am so relieved. So, so, so relieved, because I love him. I love him, I love him, I love him. We may fight non-stop and he may drive me insane, but I _love _him.

I am so relieved. But also disappointed.

* * *

Rock knows that. We've gone through this routine far too many times to count. It disappoints me that I wasn't strong enough to walk away this time, but then it hits me; I'll never be strong enough to walk away from him. But more importantly, _I don't want to_. Rock destroys me in all ways possible, but I want to be destroyed.

And I want him to be the one who destroys me.

I love him. No matter how viciously he makes my blood boil, or how desperately I sometimes want to knock some sense into him, _I love him._

Tears start spilling over the bottom of my eyes unreservedly. My constricted heart relaxes after having heard him ask me to stay, again.

"You're killing, you know that? You drive me crazy. You're going to completely unravel me and leave me raw and exposed and dead. Is that what you want?" I cry out. His hand that reached out to pull me back before remains firmly wrapped around my wrist. He brings his other hand to mimic this action, and then proceeds to stare squarely into my eyes.

"Yes."

* * *

Our love may be irrational and senseless and destructive, but it's real love. He drives me crazier than I've ever been my whole life, but I want to be crazy.

This is the truth: I could never love any other guy as hopelessly as I love him.

* * *

I stare back into his piercing amber eyes, and I take in that stupid middle parting that runs down his blonde hairdo. My eyes dart down to that ridiculously tacky gold chain that he wears religiously everyday because he claims that he thinks it's fashionable, but in reality it's because Ruby gave it to him and he actually thinks that it's ugly beyond belief, but he wears it anyway because it's from Ruby, and that's the kind of thing that matters to him. That's the kind of guy he is.

"Good," I finally say, throwing my body into his arms, which he promptly and instinctively wraps around me. My whole being relaxes when I'm in his arms. I rest my head on his chest, and I listen to his heart beating out of relief that I'm never not going to stay.

"Good," I repeat, the relief audible in my voice. "That's what I want too."

* * *

**Author's Note: I know this may seem like it's not so much of a happy ending, but I was trying to convey that happiness comes in different forms for different people. It might not seem like a typical happy ending, but it's happy for Jill and Rock. I promise the other stories will be happier though! As always, I'd love reviews and follows!**


	3. Beautiful

Beautiful  
Chelsea x Vaughn

* * *

She sits by the bar of the Diner, two seats down from me; staring blankly into her drink, she makes no move to consume it.

You know how when you pick up a brand new packet of sweets, you expect it to be completely full, containing all that sugary goodness that it's supposed to? But then the depressing realization dawns on you that the packet isn't actually new, but rather it's completely empty? That's the best way I can think to describe her. She looks like she should be brimming, filled, with life, but when you look closer, a dawning realization tells you that she's empty.

"What's gotten you so down?" I ask from my seat, avoiding making eye contact with her.

She doesn't reply, and for a moment I think maybe she didn't hear me. A minute passes in tentative silence.

"Life," she sighs finally. Her drink is still untouched, but she tiredly traces her finger along the rim of the glass.

I nod in understanding, not knowing if she saw my response. I go to light a cigarette, and I feel her blank gaze travelling over me. I know she's staring, but it doesn't make me uncomfortable like it normally does, because unlike other people, she's not actually staring _at_ me. She's staring _on_ me, and I don't know if that makes any sense, but that's what she's doing.

Nevertheless, I reach for my typical response in this situation. "Quit staring."

It's her turn to nod, and she turns her head back down towards her drink. She commences what has become almost a ritual of staring: right into the centre of the drink, where the copper fluid forms a deep, frothy, bronze swirl. The ice in her drink is starting to melt, forming an icy clear layer that suspends over it.

I exhale a lungful of smoke as silvery as my hair, and I feel every synapse in my body spring to life.

* * *

I smoke because it makes me feel alive. I smoke because it makes this tiresome life so much easier to endure. I smoke because smoking keeps me afloat in the raging sea of life.

* * *

"So are you gonna drink that, or are you just going to stare at it all night?" I finally ask after a few more minutes pass. The ice tinkles in her glass, like fairies gloomily dancing in moonlight. The clear layer forming over her drink grows thicker.

"Life disappoints me."

"Please," I scoff, "it disappoints everyone."

We fall back into silence again. More minutes pass.

"So what happened to disappoint you today?" I venture, only half interested. I flick the sooty ashes from my cigarette into an ashtray.

"Nothing in particular," she shrugs. "Just everything about life in general is disappointing. My imagination amazes me and life pales in comparison. That's all." Her eyes glimmered with sadness.

* * *

She was the kind of sad that there was no cure for. There was no real cause for her sadness, and so there was nothing that could fix it. It was sadness because she was weary of the world – inescapable sadness.

* * *

The next week I turned up at the bar, she was there too. Staring into a new drink, untouched all the same. I took my usual seat, and she remained in the seat she'd secured a week ago.

"You again."

"Me again. I'm Chelsea, by the way. I tend to spill my life story to people before I even tell them my name."

"Vaughn."

"Interesting name."

"Don't start."

We fall into a silence that was quickly becoming familiar to us both. I wordlessly smoke my cigarette as she commences what I had officially dubbed her ritual of staring into her drink.

"Life still disappointing you?"

"The only thing it doesn't disappoint me in is in disappointing me."

It takes a moment for me to wrap my head around what she's just said. "Oh, I see," I finally say. "Your sadness is the poetic kind, huh? Let me guess, you're a writer."

"Totally wrong. I'm a rancher, actually, and my sadness is anything but poetic."

"Oh, so you're the new farmer that just got here."

"And you?"

"Animal trader. I bring the animals to Sunny Island for Mirabelle and Julia – you probably know them by now."

"Yeah, the people here tend not to go unnoticed."

I smirk a little, and silence reigns once again.

"So, I'm going to take a guess and say you don't like it here?"

"Wrong again. It's not that I don't like it. It'd be the same anywhere I went. Can't run away from life no matter where you go."

"Poetic again."

"You smoke a lot."

"Doesn't disappoint me."

"Hm."

* * *

"So, do you even do anything on the farm or do you just sit here by the bar and stare into your drink all the time?"

Another week had passed, and she was stationed in her usual position.

I light my cigarette; she stares into her drink and speaks.

"Just got a cow."

"Yeah, I know. I was the one who brought it over here. How're you getting along with her?"

"Look at you, feeling sentimental towards a cow."

"You're annoying."

"You're a softie."

"Shut up."

A small smile finally tugs at the edges of her mouth.

When you try to pick water up in your hand, it seeps through your fingers, no matter how tightly you clamp them together. You might have missed it had you not actually felt the water spilling over your palm for that split second you held it.

Her smile was like trying to hold water in your hand. I might not have believed it happened had I not felt it radiate from her.

"Named her Berry. And I think she likes me, by the way. To answer your question."

"She must be crazy."

* * *

On the fourth week, she caught me by surprise with a strange inquiry.

"What does it mean to be beautiful?"

"Hey, cut it with the poetic crap. You're a farmer, not a poet."

"What happened to my sadness being poetic?"

We lapse into our accustomed silence.

I finally speak. "I don't know what it means."

"Figures. I don't either. Never been told I was. Beautiful, I mean."

"You enjoy spilling all the details about your life to anyone who'll listen, huh?"

"Sadness does that to you."

"Makes you an annoying sap who wastes money on buying drinks she never drinks?"

"Pretty much."

"Why do you buy drinks if you aren't going to drink them anyway?"

"I like to think that I'm too beautiful for liver damage."

"A needy and annoying sap."

* * *

You know how it looks when the sky is completely crowded with graying rain clouds? It's listless, kind of takes any semblance of hope out of you. But then you see the tiniest inch of sun peeking out from a space in between two clouds, and that ray of sun has to shine through, regardless of whether it wants to or not. It has to shine down because that's what it does. Even if it doesn't want to, it's _there_.

She was beautiful in that way.

* * *

Another week passed. The feeling of Chelsea smiling wouldn't leave me. I wondered why that was.

"You know smoking can reduce your life span by forty five years?"

"Shut it. I've heard this all from Mirabelle and Julia before."

"Or you could get lung cancer."

"Quit it."

"It's a slow but socially acceptable form of suicide."

"Never heard someone put it that way before."

"Have you ever thought of committing suicide?"

"Hey, hey. Don't get all suicidal on me now. I don't want your sad blood on my hands."

She laughs, the first real laugh I'd ever heard emitted from her. It was like stardust falling out of her mouth, something so rare and fleeting that it was all the more lovely for it.

"No, I've never thought of committing suicide."

"Even though life disappoints you."

"Life may be sad, but it's always beautiful."

* * *

She was the embodiment of life. Sad, but beautiful – beautiful in spite of the sadness, not because of it.

* * *

Our weekly bar meeting that consisted of smoking and staring had become an unspoken routine.

"So, did not being called beautiful ever bother you or something?"

"No, not really. After all, life disappoints me, right?"

"Why're you asking me?"

"I don't know. It's starting to disappoint even in disappointing me."

The rain clouds parted an inch more, and the sun hiding behind it furiously poured its rays through the empty space.

* * *

Life is like the ocean. All of us are drowning in it. Some of us eventually learn how to swim to keep afloat, some drown before they should, and some of us just learn how to prolong the drowning process.

* * *

"You're beautiful," I mumble out quietly, so softly that I almost believe she hasn't heard it.

She hears it.

"Where's this coming from?"

"You wanted to hear it, right?"

"Kind of, but only if you meant it."

Our trademark silence falls over us. Minutes pass as I smoke and she stares.

"What I meant is," I finally start, afraid to stop because I might never get the rest of my sentence out otherwise, "I don't know what it means to be beautiful. But I'm pretty sure that whatever it means, you're it."

Even more silence.

I grimace at how I stopped short of saying what I really wanted to tell her.

All or nothing.

"You're too beautiful to be so sad."

Her reaction surprises me. She doesn't blush or beam or giggle like any other girl would. Instead she looks like realisation is dawning on her. Finally, after an even longer silence passes, she looks up from her drink and then right at me.

I get uncomfortable, and that's when I know that she's not empty anymore.

"And you're too beautiful for lung cancer."

I glance over to her, and I see the clouds parting further and further. The sun keeps shining. Her beauty can't be overtaken by sadness, it's just _there_.

I take the almost empty box of cigarettes out from my pocket, and place it in her palm.

"Then this is my last pack."

* * *

Like two people who have been drowning for far too long, Chelsea and I cling onto one another, and together, we finally start to make our way to shore.

* * *

**Author's Note: Just to clear things up, for every new conversation started between Vaughn and Chelsea it's supposed to be the following week! I'm not sure if that came across. Hear me out: I know Chelsea and Vaughn are the most overdone pairing ever but I'm starting to see why. Vaughn's character just slotted in so perfectly for this story! Anyway, I won't repeat pairings (for the most part) so please stick with me even if you've read about them more times than you can count! I don't know why but I kind of like this one *_* Hope you do too!**


	4. Understand

Understand  
Reina x Phillip

* * *

He didn't understand girls.

The way they would say one thing but mean another; the way they would say everything except the one thing that they really wanted to say; the way they seemed to have a universal girl code only decipherable by other members of the female species, a code that made it impossible for guys to fathom what they truly meant.

It seemed to him like they were born programmed to automatically know everything about love and the universe – that they came into the world with an understanding of it far deeper than any man could ever hope or attempt to have.

He didn't understand girls.

* * *

She wasn't just any girl.

She was even more confusing than other girls.

* * *

He didn't understand how a botanist like her could be so impartial to a gift of flowers, always just calling his gifts 'quite nice'. It sure as hell wasn't because she didn't like flowers themselves; her house was covered in them, after all.

When he'd asked her about it, she initially denied it, saying she did like them, and that it was her difficulty with expressing her feelings that was to blame.

It took him a year to crack her open.

"I believe that if you love a flower, you shouldn't pick it up."

"Why's that?"

"Because if you pick it up, it ceases to be the flower you love. You kill it."

Phillip had to take a moment to digest what Reina just said. He stayed thoughtfully silent. She continued speaking.

"I mean, if you love someone, you love them for who they are, right? You shouldn't try to own them, because they're not yours to own. You love the person as you found them. Love's not about possession."

Phillip looked over at her, as her various expressions merged to form one that seemed both hard faced but gently thoughtful at the same time.

"Love's about appreciation."

Something about her could simultaneously make his head spin and everything fall into place at the same time.

"I promise not to pick you up, then," he joked.

"You're being silly."

They got up to start making their way back home from where they sat on the mountain, Reina starting off a little ahead of him.

They walked in comfortable silence. Phillip was convinced that that had been the end of the conversation, until he heard Reina mutter something almost inaudibly under her breath.

"But thank you."

* * *

He didn't understand why she talked to her plants. She claimed that it was because that made them grow better, but he had his suspicions that it probably came down to how she had an undeniable affinity with them.

When you look at someone, you see an aura. It radiates from them, and whether you're conscious of it or not, it affects you anyway. It affects the way the two of you ultimately meld together. Maybe it has something to do with your past life; maybe whatever you were in your past life stays with you in your present one in the form of an aura.

Phillip was certain that his aura was earth.

She? She was flower.

He didn't understand the way she made him think.

* * *

He didn't understand the way she'd repeatedly shrugged him off when he tried talking to her when they first met, but then asked him to go on a walk with her a week later.

* * *

He didn't understand why she spent so much time in the morning doing her hair.

He thought she looked most beautiful at one in the morning, when she lay asleep next to him, her hair a mess and her face without a scrap of make up on it.

A flower doesn't need any enhancement to be beautiful.

It just is.

* * *

He didn't understand her logic.

"You like being alone, don't you?"

"I like being left to my research. Sometimes I get too caught up in it. People seem to have a hard time with that."

"That doesn't answer my question, though."

"I do like being alone."

"You don't sound very convincing."

She sighed. "I like being alone, but I don't like being lonely."

"Hm."

He didn't understand it, but he would stay by her all the same.

* * *

He definitely didn't understand the way she'd told him she loved him.

They sat by the spring, and she fidgeted with her braid while staring at the sunlight which serenely glimmered off the water.

"I might be in love you," she said steadily, avoiding making eye contact with him.

He looked at her in surprise, but she continued her staring.

"I'm waiting until I'm sure to tell you, though."

"You love me?"

"I didn't say that."

"But-"

"I said I might love you."

She turned her gaze to what must have been a friend in a past life, a blue bell that nestled itself comfortably next to her feet. She caressed its cerulean petals, seemingly disremembering her unexpected confession.

"I'll take it," he grinned, smiling so widely that she couldn't help but to smile in response. He continued.

"I love you too, by the way. But I'm pretty sure you know that by now."

"I know."

* * *

He didn't understand why someone as admittedly reserved and guarded as her had decided to let her walls down with him, and only him.

Her answer had made Phillip's head spin with both confusion and excitement. She'd smiled that tiny smile of hers, the one that managed to make Phillip's heart foolishly flutter every single time.

"Because you're different. And I like that."

* * *

He didn't understand why she almost never laughed. It was always a smile or a knowing nod of the head, but rarely a laugh.

He didn't understand, because the first time she laughed, he realized that her laugh was a sound that could make his whole world come to a standstill from its revolution around its axis; because in her laugh, the still turning point of his world seemingly came to reside in the body of the girl laughing before him.

She could make his mind spin and his world make sense at the same time.

Her momentary laugh was like a medley of questions: "Why are you so silly?" "How did you manage to break down my walls?" "I'll only tell you that I love you when I'm sure. Is that alright?" "Don't let me be lonely anymore, okay?"

In that moment, he knew that her laugh was a question he wanted to spend the rest of his life answering.

* * *

**Author's Note: For Karisma Jestler - I hope you enjoyed it! I haven't played Tale of Two Towns before so I'm not really familiar with these two, so they might seem quite out of character. Please go easy on me!**


	5. Peace

Peace  
Angela x Toby

* * *

My life has always been hectic.

I can't remember a time when my mind wasn't working in overdrive; always trying to convince myself to do this or that; always moving; always worrying about _something_.

What if I never find somebody? What if my farm fails? What if I die never knowing what love is?

You know how people say you need a 'happy place'? A place where all your problems don't matter because they're just instantaneously forgotten there?

I don't have one.

* * *

"Angela."

I dangerously whipped my head around to meet the gentle voice that had uttered my name, and was met with silver hair and relaxingly jade green eyes.

Toby.

Well worn flip flops donned his feet, while his trademark straw hat hung from a lone string strewn around his shoulders. His striped over-shirt fluttered in the night breeze.

"Are you alright?"

I made no move to respond. The world was spinning in slow motion.

"Hayden said you had a lot to drink. That you were close to letting Owen make a move on you."

"What's it to you?" I drawled stubbornly. My consciousness started to desert me. My legs gave way, making me stumble for no apparent reason.

"Hey," he called out worriedly, before he started to make his way over to me, "hang in there."

I laughed drunkenly, an apt expression for my exact state, giving Toby the unnecessary challenge of trying to hold a sprawling me up.

"Let's get you home, okay?"

"Why do you even care…" I muttered against his shoulder, which I had decided to use as my pillar of support.

I got no answer, and we lapsed into silence as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, gently assisting me back to my house.

Toby laid me into my bed as soon as we reached our destination, tucking me in like a mother would a child. I was hit with sad nostalgia for a memory I'd never had. He sat himself on a stool by the edge of my bed; tucking my mess of hair behind my ears; laying a cool, damp cloth on my forehead.

"Toby…"

"Mm?"

"Why'd you come after me today?"

"I told you, Hayden told me you drank too much."

Despite my poor state of mind, I could still remember the events of the night. What I couldn't do was control my mouth, which had seemingly grown a mind of its own.

"Liar." Toby's eyebrows furrowed confusedly, but he continued dabbing my forehead with the damp cloth, as I lay sideways, facing him.

"Hayden wasn't at the bar tonight."

Toby didn't miss a beat. He shrugged. "We're friends. I can tell when there's something off about you. I saw you stumbling home and figured it out."

"Best friends, right?" I chuckled to myself as if I'd just uttered the funniest thing ever. He laughed to kindly humor me.

"Best friends," he repeated genuinely, going to brush back the hair that'd fallen over my face once again.

"Toby."

"Hm?"

"My mind won't keep quiet."

He laughed softly, noiselessly fidgeting with my blanket so it would cover my arms. "That's funny. Mine's always quiet."

"I just want it to be peaceful for once…" My mind and mouth were in constant, uncontrollable motion.

"Alright, Ange. Go to sleep."

My eyes were tiring; their lids started to grow heavy. My consciousness slipped further and further away.

"What if my mind won't be quiet even when I'm asleep?"

He chucked. "Sleep. I'll fight the bad dreams off if they come to get you."

"With what?" He pulled the blanket further up so it reached all the way up to my neck. My eyes were partway done with their descent into my dreams.

"My bare hands, obviously."

"You're an idiot," I smiled, as his sweetness tugged fully at my heart. I couldn't control my words from spilling over my mouth.

Sleep took over.

* * *

I awoke to the extremely unwelcome sound of knocking on my door; my head still pounded from my mistakes of the night before. My mind still wouldn't be quiet. I threw the door open impatiently, expecting to find Hamilton ready to give me some useless information about an upcoming festival. Instead, I was met with familiar jade green eyes, which exuded relaxation.

"Feeling better?"

"Not really."

"I've got something I want to show you."

Toby motioned for me to follow him, him leading me away from my house. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, stretching my arms to alleviate the soreness in my bones.

Caramel Falls.

"What're we doing here?"

He hummed happily as he got out his fishing rod; ignoring my question, he plopped himself on the rocky ground, and started to fish.

"Toby?" Not in the mood to continue standing, I took a seat next to him. He lazily held his fishing rod, humming quietly and tranquilly.

"Try it."

"You're being strange today."

Ignoring my insult, or pretty much everything else I'd said so far that day, Toby gestured at me to get my own fishing rod out and have a go. I sighed, deciding to comply with his request.

_Sleep. I'll fight the bad dreams off if they come to get you. _

_With what?_

_My bare hands, obviously._

Our short conversation from the night prior suddenly came rushing back to me. Not one to keep my words in my ever working mind, I spoke.

"Toby, what you said last night."

"Hm?" He was acting like it never happened.

"Last night, you said… Uh, you said you'd fight the bad dreams-"

"I don't remember saying that."

"I wasn't that drunk."

"Seemed pretty drunk to me." He chortled quietly.

"So you do remember."

"I didn't say that."

"Why'd you say it?"

"So you'd go to sleep."

"Oh."

I didn't know why, but I felt crestfallen at Toby's words. Disappointed that it hadn't meant anything more to him – while it'd meant everything to me.

Of course I knew why.

Because I loved the damn guy. Had for a long time now.

He didn't look over at me, but he knew it anyway. He was intuitive like that. He smiled a little, keeping his eyes closed as he lay back, barely holding onto his fishing rod.

"Because I love you, silly."

My head whipped around to the source of his voice. He hadn't moved an inch – it was hard to believe he'd actually said anything at all.

"You love me?"

His smile was kept plastered on his face, but he gave me no reply. He just laid back, one leg crossed idly over the other at the knee, almost like he was dozing off. Peaceful.

Silence fell over us.

"Hold on tighter to your fishing rod," he finally said. He reached out to wrap my fingers around the piece of equipment tauter, letting his fingers brush against mine in the process. My mind was whirring more wildly than it'd ever done before. I didn't know how, but somehow I found my fishing rod in my opposite hand, and in the hand that once held said fishing rod, was Toby's hand.

And suddenly, the relentless motion in my mind came to an abrupt still.

Leaves rustled soundlessly as they were softly caressed by the gentle spring winds. The water from the falls seemed to glitter in the graceful rays of sun. The distant chirping of birds mixed with the soothing falling of water formed a tranquil melody.

Peace.

I turned to my left to see Toby, eyes closed, fishing rod resting lazily in one hand, my hand resting lazily in the other. His smile never left his face, nor did his soft but happy hum ever come to a stop. He noticed my staring, and turned his head to me.

His jade green eyes creased up when he smiled at me.

I finally found my happy place.

* * *

**Author's Note: For Cotton Candy Mareep - I really hope you enjoyed it! Thanks so much for all your reviews, I appreciate them to no end! I've been wanting to write about this pairing for a while now because Toby seems like such a calming sweetheart. **

**Thanks to everybody for the follows/reviews/likes! I really appreciate each and every one of them! Sorry it took me a while with this chapter. I'm currently working on my other Harvest Moon fic, _Serendipity_, so check that out if you'd like! **


	6. Talks

Talks  
Rio x Neil

* * *

"If you were reincarnated as an animal, what animal would you be? I think I'd be a bird.  
Neil?  
Did you hear me?"

"A cat."

"Why-"

"So I could kill you."

"How cruel."

* * *

"I brought you a gift."

"Quit harassing me."

* * *

"How was my shrimp chilli?"

"Terrible."

"Why'd you eat all of it, then?"

"You're annoying."

* * *

"You're pretty rude, aren't you?"

"Says the girl who's always barging into my house without knocking."

"I always come bearing gifts though."

"Who said I want your crappy gifts?"

"Don't see you throwing my shrimp chilli away."

"I do it at night. So you won't see it."

"Ah, so you're not as rude as I thought."

"Buzz off."

"Might have spoken too soon."

* * *

"Neil…"

"Get out of – Hey, Rio. Why're you crying? Geez, girls are so frickin' annoying."

"Why… Why are you hugging me?"

"Shut up."

* * *

"What was with the waterworks last night?  
Ah geez, are you crying again?"

"You're hugging me again."

"You look real ugly when you cry."

"Sorry."

"I thought I told you to shut up."

* * *

"Thanks. For the other day. For… You know."

"You gonna make me repeat myself a third time?"

* * *

"I've got a toothache."

"That's because you're too sweet."

"Wha–?"

"Pah! You expecting me to say something like that? It's probably aching to get away from you.  
Quit smiling. You look real ugly when you smile too.  
And if you even try crying I'll kick you out right now."

* * *

"Hey Neil, do you believe in parallel universes?"

"It's all bull crap."

"I mean, in one universe, you and I could be married."

"If I got to experience all my other lives, I wouldn't pick you in a single one of them."

"Try to deny it, but it's already happening in a universe out there."

"Already?"

"Already."

"You trying to say it's going to happen in this universe?"

"Maybe."

"You're creeping me out."

"It's happening."

* * *

"Don't you have other people to bug? Rod seems like he'd enjoy your harassment more."

"Are you extraordinarily rude or just really dense?"

"Probably the first one."

"So you know?"

"Know what?"

"Why I keep hanging around you."

"Cause you've got nothing better to do."

"So it's the second one, then."

* * *

"Saw you out for dinner with Allen last night."

"He dragged me out with him."

"Mm."

"I didn't want to go."

"Whatever. It's none of my business. Maybe you can bug him instead of me."

"Are you jealous?"

"Get out of my store."

* * *

"You haven't spoken to me for a week. Are you still angry about the Allen thing?  
Neil?  
Come on, Neil, don't ignore me."

* * *

"I wasn't jealous."

"That's the first thing you say after not talking to me for two weeks?"

"I wasn't."

"Then why'd you ignore me?"

"You must have imagined it."

"You're such a child."

"Why'd you go out with Allen anyway?"

"I thought you didn't care."

"I don't."

"I was getting a haircut and he forced me to come along with him after."

"Oh."

"I got the haircut for you, by the way."

"Huh?"

"And you got so angry that you didn't even notice."

"…Idiot."

"Is that any way to respond to my efforts to look nicer? How cruel."

"You didn't have to cut it."

"Evidently. You didn't notice."

"What I meant is you look fine as you are. Haircut or not."

"Oh."

"Quit blushing. You look real ugly when you blush."

"You don't look all that handsome either."

* * *

"Neil, do you ever wonder if… There's something out there?"

"What're you blabbering on about?"

"Do you ever wonder if this is all there is to life? Just sitting around and waiting for something great to happen?"

"I haven't got the patience to depress myself with such morbid thoughts."

"It's like I'm always looking for something more. Something great.  
Do you think I'll ever find it?"

"Maybe."

"Hm."

"Or maybe you won't."

"How blunt."

"Maybe you'll find something greater than that."

* * *

"Rio, open up."

"Neil? What're you doing, coming all the way over here? It's pouring outside."

"Then let me in, damn it."

"I guess I'll ask again. What're you doing here?"

"Take this."

"Miso soup? Thanks. But what's it for?"

"Heard you were sick."

"You came here because you were worried about me?"

"I sure as hell didn't come here just to get drenched for nothing."

"So… You were worried, then?"

"Drink your damn soup."

* * *

"You ran through the rain for me."

"What're you going on about today?"

"You ran through the rain to give me soup."

"What about it?"

"You hate rain."

"How'd you know that?"

"You're a cat."

"You're making no sense."

"When we first met, I asked what animal you would be. I said I was a bird. You said you were a cat."

"So?"

"You're a cat. You hate the rain. But you braved it – for me."

"Geez, you gonna make me come out and say it?"

"Say what?"

"I like you, dumbass."

"Oh."

"You look real ugly when you just stand there looking shocked.  
What, you're not even gonna say anything?"

"Okay."

"Okay? That's it?"

"You really are dense, aren't you?  
I like you too, in case you haven't figured it out yet."

"Oh."

"Now you're the one not saying anything."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay."

* * *

"Did you ever find it?"

"Find what?"

"Your 'something great'. The thing you said you were always waiting around for."

"No, I didn't."

My fingers softly brushed along Neil's rough ones. I rested my head on his shoulder, and let out a content sigh.

"I found something much greater than that."

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Fault In Our Stars' by John Green.**

**Author's Note: Sorry I've been away for so long! I've always greatly enjoyed writing dialogue between characters, so I decided, why not try to write a story completely based on dialogue? Hope it came across okay, and not too aimless! I'll try to work on the requests soon, so please be patient with me!**


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